


You Don't, You Do

by ihavealotofwords



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Experimental Style, Experimental writing, Fluff, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, POV Experimental, Strange POV, Superfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:29:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihavealotofwords/pseuds/ihavealotofwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don’t plan to run away with him. He just happens to decide to swing by and show you his new motorcycle the one night your parents return home early.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't, You Do

You don’t plan to run away with him. He just happens to decide to swing by and show you his new motorcycle the one night your parents return home early. Your Dad shouts and cusses him out while your Pops holds you back. It doesn’t go anything like you expected it would; it’s worse. Much worse. He gives you a sad look before he’s hauled outside. Once he’s gone, your Dad returns and gives you a serious, disappointed look before storming downstairs. Your Pop tries to talk to you, but you shut him out figuratively and literally. You can tell he stands there for a moment after you slam the door in his face. He eventually leaves, and you slide to the floor, curling up. You don’t cry, but it’s close. Your parents can keep you from him, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

You don’t know how long you stay there, staring blankly at the wall, before you hear a noise at the window. You open it and look down to see him. He beckons you, and you have no hesitation as you climb down to meet him. He kisses you soundly when you finally fall into his arms. He hands you a helmet, and you get onto his motorcycle. You don’t look back as the engine roars and the two of you fly. The wind whips against your skin, pulling at your clothes, but his warmth keeps the cold fingers away as you press close against his broad back. A fervor grips you, and you shout that you love him. It’s swept away by the rushing wind, but you’re ok with that. Surely he can feel it in the way your heart pounds against his back and the way your breath rushes out of your lungs when you touch him.

 

He takes you to his apartment building. Impatient, he lifts you over his shoulder and carries you. It’s late, so you don’t run into any of the other residents. You imagine you wouldn’t care if you did, so intent on him as you are. He finally reaches his apartment and opens the door. You barely get a look at the small living room before he lets you down. You’re immediately pressed against him, mouth seeking his desperately. You tell him how sorry you are, how much you wish it could be different. He laughs and tells you not to be so depressing. He’s always done his best to enjoy life to the fullest, and he plans to continue doing just that to the end.

Your sorrow must show on your face, because he cups your cheek and leans in for a soft kiss. When he pulls back, he takes your hand in his and leads you to his room. The mattress presses against your back strangely, but he presses against the rest of you and you stop thinking. He’s all heat and large hands eagerly touching your skin and soon your clothes are gone. His are too, so you don’t feel so self conscious. You run your fingertips against his scars. You wish others could look past them like you do, so they could really see him. He takes your hand and kisses the pads of your fingers fondly and calls you silly. Even he can’t see past them, and your heart breaks a little.

Soon, he’s touching you like no one ever has before. It’s warm and messy and nothing like you expected. This is better, and you never want it to end. You hold him tight and close your eyes and try to take it all in. But it’s too much, and you fall and fall. He’s there to catch you, though, and you sigh. Whether it’s in resignation, contentment, or sadness, neither of you can tell. You bask in each other for as long as you can, wrapped up in each other like it’s the last time you ever will be together. You try not to think that it might be.

The spell is broken by the door flying open. Your parents stand there, rage visible on their faces. They yank you away from him, and his cry of your name is cut off by your Dad. You can’t see even when you strain, and your Pops carries you out. He forces you to get dressed and takes you home. You sit without moving until your Dad comes back. He doesn’t look at you, and your heart sinks.

You still don’t cry.

He doesn’t come back. You wait, looking for him wherever you go. Your heart leaps every time someone knocks on the door and your stomach drops every time the phone rings, but it’s never him. Your parents move on, continuing with their lives. They stop mentioning him, and they give you more freedom.

You go on with your life, but you don’t really live. You’re still the top of your class, and you still spend time with your friends. When graduation rolls around, you lead your class as the Valedictorian, and your parents are the loudest when the auditorium bursts into applause. You’re alive, obviously, but it doesn’t feel like it. You go through the motions of living. You eat and take care of yourself and smile when appropriate, but it’s all hollow and fake. You know people worry, but no one talks about it.

Once, when you’re in your Senior year, you find your Dad drinking. He doesn’t look up as you enter, but he talks. He apologizes, begs for forgiveness. You wrestle the bottle away from him, and he gives it up easily. He looks up at you, eyes almost clear, and tells you that he wishes they hadn’t drove him away. That he hadn’t left. Because you, he says with impressive clarity for someone so drunk, don’t smile for real anymore. He tells you it never looks right. You give him one of your fake smiles and carry him up to bed.

You don’t sleep that night.

But life goes on. You graduate and get accepted into university. You only apply for the ones in the city. Even though there’s no sign he’s coming back, you can’t bring yourself to leave the city where you met. So you start classes in the fall and get a small part-time job. You move into your own apartment a few streets over from your parents’ place, but you spend a lot of time there anyway. Your apartment is too empty, too quiet even with all of the neighbors.

You make friends, but you always draw that line there rigidly. You can’t even imagine trying anything more. People offer, because you can be charming sometimes, but none of them are him. You don’t want anyone but him. Your Pops tries to talk you into attempting it just once, but after you break and scream yourself hoarse no one mentions it again. So you live your life, waiting.

You spent another afternoon at the lab, having to stay late to correct something your lab partner missed. He’s sweet, but not intelligent as you. You like him, though, so you don’t mind helping him improve his lab grades. It’s when the two of you are done that he asks you. You go to reply, to tell him you can’t, but he smiles sadly. He tells you that he knows what your answer is, but he wanted to be sure. He promises to see you Monday, and you watch him go. If things had gone differently in the past, you might have said yes. You genuinely like your lab partner, but he’s not him.

You’re walking out when you hear the whispers. Someone mentions a motorcycle and its owner and your stomach jumps. You tell yourself it can’t be, but you can’t deny that you speed up towards the parking lot. You round the corner and there he is, sitting atop his motorcycle and waiting for you. You stare at him for one still second before you’re running. You throw yourself at him, and he buries his face into your hair. He tells you he’s sorry, that he’s back now and nothing can keep you apart. He whispers how much he loves you over and over until it’s all that you can hear.

You cry happy tears into his shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an experimental thing I wrote for a creative writing class. The original post can be found [here](http://fanofallthingsadorkable.tumblr.com/post/46912865389/you-dont-plan-to-run-away-with-him-he-just) .


End file.
